Moments in the Sun
by Ravenseye131
Summary: A collection of oneshots I wrote while in Europe. Ratings vary, but are stated at the top below the title. Phantom of the Opera is not mine.
1. Swinging Sunsets

**Swinging Sunsets**

Rating: **K **

By Ravenseye131

The sight made a soft smile rise to his lips. She truly was an angel, the soft iridescent glow of golden sunset highlighting her gentle curls. Her arms were wrapped carefully around the strong ropes of a handmade swing. It hung gracefully from a large Oak tree and swayed easily in the breeze. He came up behind her and took her into his loving embrace. While one hand curled around her collarbone, the other strayed to her abdomen. A large bulge was beginning to show. He had only been holding his palm against her for a moment before a dull kick resonated behind it. His smile deepened and he nearly wept with joy as she nuzzled his neck and sighed in a relaxing manner. He suddenly became apprehensive and opened his sun sprayed eyes to look into hers' before speaking.

"How long?"

She 'hmned' softly before turning and kissing him; she drew away after a moment and smiled before answering.

"Stop worrying so much! It will be another three or four months…then you may fret and worry."

Her gentle teasing brought a bubble of laughter to rise out of him and he shook his head as he helped her to stand. Dusk was falling as they made their way home, and the stars made their pace slow. Suddenly she glanced upward and gasped. He panicked and turned towards her with frightened eyes.

"What? What is wrong?"

"Nothing, there's a shooting star!"

He relaxed again and looked up with her, watching as the stars showered. Her thin hand clasped his own and he sighed contentedly before she spoke once more.

"I love you Erik…"

"And I you Christine, for I am born in your eyes, live in your arms and die in your lap."

**End**

A/N: First installment in a little collection of oneshots I wrote whilst on my trip to Europe. Review and please tell me what you think!


	2. Dancing Shadows

**Dancing Shadows**

Rating: **M**

By Ravenseye131

Christine had been alone in the dressing room. It was Christmas Eve and everyone but her was happily celebrating the holiday. As she starred blankly into the large winter fire, she sent up a simple wish:

'Please Papa, send me my Angel…'

Finishing her silent plea, she curled comfortably on the large empty couch and let sleep befall her eighteen-year-old form. It was much later when Christine was startled awake by the cold temperature of the room. Shivering, she stood and made her way towards the door. Her hand came to the knob and gave several tugs before she realized someone had accidentally locked her in. Since the fire had long gone out she was very cold and began feeling fearful as she looked desperately for some warmth. Spotting her shawl, Christine wrapped it tightly around her dress. She suddenly spotted a box of matches and swiftly went about lighting the candles with the three strikes left. The most she could hope for now was that someone found her before the holidays were over. She was only half-conscious when a warm cloak unexpectedly draped across her. The cloak was followed by an equally warm body, which scooped her easily up and led her far from the cold.

When Christine awoke she was in the glorious splendor of a swan-shaped bed. The sudden call of musical notes caused her to rise and she wearily left the small bedroom alcove to come upon the sight of an Adonis-like man. His body was strong and broad and each of his empowered muscles rippled as his fingers danced across piano keys. Christine crept quietly in the hopes of keeping her element of surprise. The black-haired angel before her was so enthralled with his musical beauty that he didn't hear the silent approach. Thus, he jumped slightly when the beautiful soprano's voice began accompanying his piece. Stunned, he turned and found his Christine standing nervously (and blushing slightly) before him. With the boundless effort of a large cat, Christine suddenly found herself face-to-face with the estranged Adonis. She prepared to speak, but he quickly brought his finger to her lips and effectively silenced her. He appeared as though he wished to speak, but the touch of his finger to Christine's lips caused her to sigh blissfully and shut her eyes contentedly. Mesmerized, she felt him delicately trace her rosy orifice with the pad of his thumb. He trailed easily southward and didn't cease until he'd drawn a stray curl to hide behind her ear. Christine's own arms began reacting upon accord and as her eyes unveiled, her palms came in contact with his powerful neck and slowly skated upward from chin to cheek and slowly ending with her right hand resting on his shoulder and her left curling in his coal-black hair. His own eyes opened half-lidded and she could hardly contain her aroused sight as she saw love and lust glowing in his crystal golden orbs. A half-hiss/half-groan slowly left his mouth as Christine stepped closer.

"_Christine_…"

She held to him tighter and shivered in apparent lust. She didn't even realize she was panting as her short whispered breaths curled and called out to his straining need. The distance shortened even further and suddenly neither could breath as their lips smashed together and the emptiness and longing dissolved in the searing heat of love. Christine moved her lips gracefully against his own as he held her tightly. Her eyes had closed yet again and she moaned in ecstasy as she felt the fleshy expanse of his tongue begging entrance into her cavernous mouth. She didn't hesitate, and soon the chasteness of their kiss evaporated and became impassioned lava. Their tongues met like electric fuses and sent shockwaves of bliss throughout them. Christine shifted to kiss his cheek as he moved lower and began tending to her neck and shoulders. Suddenly, Christine gasped and he broke from her in fear.

"What? What is it?"

"Y-your face…"

His hand rose to his unmasked flesh and he cursed his stupidity. As always he had taken off the obstructing porcelain in order to read his music clearly. Undoubtedly, the half lit cavernous atmosphere cast a shadow upon his beastly visage and protected his beloved from the creature he truly was. Yet, in the frenzy of passion the two had meandered into the blaze of a three-pronged candelabra.

"I…I am sorry Christine…"

He looked down in shame, trying his best to hide the tears of pain. To his immense shock, Christine's hands returned to his face and began smoothing the ruffled side of his deformed flesh.

"Does…Does it hurt you…?"

"…N-no…"

"Then I do not mind…"

He felt as though he were exploding when her lips met his again. The fierceness of the kiss stunned him and he stumbled slightly as he led the way back into the bedroom. It took the better half of ten unbearably long minutes for Christine to shed her garments down to her thin chemise and he to his drawers. A wave of anxiety filled Christine as she felt her silk chemise inching up; she cried out in protest and instantaneously ceased his movement.

"Wait! Wait!"

"What?"

"Your name…I…I do not no your name."

Incredulous, he could only stare for a moment before speaking to his half-naked lover.

"My name…? My name is Erik."

"Erik…"

Hearing his name whispered upon her rosy kiss-bruised lips caused Erik to growl animalistically and fall against his beloved yet again. They tore the last remnants of their clothes and a curse bubbled out of him as her bare skin met his. Christine had never felt so desperate, and though she knew of sex, she had never partaken of the act and thus remained uninformed in some areas. Yet, when his pulsing organ poked warm and hard against her inner thigh, she didn't hesitate to withhold tears of angst as she cried out and pulled him closer.

"Erik…!"

Full of such desperation and need, Erik could not deny her and gently guided himself within her. He froze when she flinched in the adjusting pain and only continued when she shifted again. He finally pulled back and tore quickly through her virginal barrier and held her tightly as she cried out painfully and let tears stream down her cheeks.

"Shh…don't cry…please don't cry mon amore…"

Several tense minutes passed as he tried to still his raging desire and coo his angel at the same time. Finally he felt the reassuring buck of her hips against his and took the cue to begin the dance of life. Each forceful plunge upward made her back arch and her eyes widen. A crescendo like none other began to consume her and she felt the blissful angst all over again. The edges of her vision blurred and stars began swirling before her. Suddenly she was gone and flying amongst the Heavens, her beloved Erik repeatedly crying her name as he joined her and spilt his seed into the safekeeping of her womb. Delicious heat encompassed them as they returned from the self-made Nirvana and Erik gently gathered the blankets around them. Gently, he spooned against her before murmuring sleepily,

"Merry Christmas Mon Amore…"

"Merry Christmas Angel of Music…"

He smiled at her words and quick wit and held her tighter until sleep consumed them both and sent them to each other's dreams.

**End**

A/N: I wrote this on the bus while traveling through Paris. Probably writen somewhere between the Eiffle Tower and Notre Dame. Please Review! ;)


	3. Between AN Edit

**Between **

Rating: **M (_suicide_)**

By Ravenseye131

The gendarmes had been called for an entirely different reason. The fiancé had ordered them to protect the future Viscountess from an obsessed madman. Yet now, both the Viscount and the Opera Ghost lay in shadows of themselves within the room. In the arms of a ballet rat laid a body. Said corpse looked peaceful and sad, tears adorning her pale face. Blood trickled softly down the length of her wrists. The edges of the torn flesh blue with anemia, and her muscles stiff with rigor mortis. The deceased angel lay clothed in Aminta's clothes. It was apparent that she'd been prepared for the main role. The ballet rat whom held her suddenly rose and ran crying into the arms of her mother. The Phantom took her place. He was dressed elegantly, in Don Juan's costume, and he was weeping softly despite his tough visage. He cried into her neck, desperate tears soaking her silk bodice. The captain of the gendarmes sighed and shook his head as he picked up the dead woman's last note.

"_To my friends Madame and Mademoiselle Giry go my possessions. The ring about my neck returns to my fiancé and my heart goes to the Angel of Music…My friends and lovers I cannot choose, forgive my weakness and look for me somewhere between…_

_Christine"_

**End**

A/N: This was written on the bus leading away from the Paris Opera House (it's different in French, but I don't remember it's proper name). Gaston Leroux wrote about the Opera Garnier- the Opera Populaire was an invention of Andrew Lloyd Webber's. Also none of the Phantom film adaptations were actually filmed inside the Opera house. The 1925 film had several sound stages built as exact replicas (Stage 28- the auditorium set, still exists) The 2004 film version of the musical was filmed in Britain. Although there is at least one English-speaking film that did shoot on location inside the Opera: "Funny Face" starring Audrey Hepburn and Fred Astaire. Thanks to Katherine Silverhair for the information! I apologize for my last information being incorrect. Please review, Ravenseye131


	4. Look Right Through Me

**Look Right Through Me**

Rating: **T**

By Ravenseye131

Erik's trembling hand held unto nothingness. She stood far ahead of him, her eyes closed and hands clasped in prayer. Her noble head was bent to hide tears and each drop that fell left gossamer strands of liquid gliding down her rosy cheeks. A single crystal of water fell delicately and plipped softly as it landed on a small hand. Curious, the owner of the newly wetted palm glanced up.

"Mama, why you cry?"

The gloomy mother smiled sadly at her babe and gathered his small body into the shelter of her arms.

"I'm sad Francis because I miss your Papa."

"Where Papa go?"

"To where all angels go Honey."

Christine gently kissed her son's unmasked cheek and sent one last 'I love you' towards the pale tombstone. Francis, still in the safety of his mother's embrace, glanced back and quickly sent up a prayer.

'Please watch Mama, Papa.'

As he heard his son's words, Erik wept with a small smile on his face. He took one last glance at his own grave before slowly following his family. Marked solemnly on his grave were the only words he needed to hear…

'Diligo, Abbas, Angelus de Organum.'

**End.**

A/N: Yet another sad story! Sorry about that, but it was very gloomy and rainy in France whilst I was there. I visited a graveyard in a small church, which was overshadowed by Notre Dame. The atmosphere there gave me the idea for this little piece. The last line is written in Latin and roughly translated means, 'Love (or Lover), Father, and Angel of Music.' More literally, Organum means Musical Instrument, but I feel as though it still fits the purpose, nay? Anyway, please review and send me your thoughts!


	5. Sound of a Thousand Roses

**Sound of a Thousand Roses**

Rating: **K**

By Ravenseye131

Golden sunlight danced upon midnight colored ringlets. Eyes of forest green danced and sparkled as butterflies encircled a three year olds form. Buttercup daisies adorned the child's small head and lifting said head, an equally small palm presented a large shadowed figure with a beautiful flower.

"Flow, Pa?"

"Why thank you Brigitte."

The little girl clapped her hands excitedly and went back to building more flower necklaces. Erik was sitting on a soft grassy knoll watching his daughter play happily in the flower field. The red daisy seemed to be the only one in the whole field, yet she had found it. He smiled lightly and twirled the stem between his fingers before a weight of suddenly plopped itself into his lap.

"Pa?"

"Hmm?"

"Like flow?"

"Yes, it is very beautiful."

"Pwetty!"

"Most assuredly."

"Wove Ooo."

"Do you?"

"Yea!"

"Well I love you too."

Brigitte wrapped her small arms tightly around Erik's midriff. It wasn't long before he looked down and noticed that she'd fallen fast asleep.

'So much like her mother…'

The thoughts sombered him and he held his baby closer. Though he tried, tears of anguish filled his amber eyes and he wept as memories drifted by.

_"Do you Erik Destler take Christine Daae to be your lawfully wedded wife…?"_

_"I do…"_

Erik closed his eyes as he continued reminiscing…

_"Congratulations Monsieur Destler, you and your wife are expecting a child."_

_"Oh Erik! I'm so happy!"_

Then, his thoughts trailed the darker part of his memory…

_"I'm sorry Monsieur…Madame Destler has left this world…"_

A tiny hand gently drew away a tear that had slithered from Erik's eye.

"Pa…?"

His amber eyes opened and looked into the timid eyes of the child Christine had passed away bringing into the world.

"Yes my sweet?"

"Sad?"

"No…no, I was just-."

"Ooo lie!"

"I am most certainly not!"

"Awe two!"

"Are not!"

"Yea huh! Ooo cwying!"

"No I am not."

"Well ooo were!"

"No, I got pollen in my eye."

"Pa…why ooo sad…pwease tell why?"

"…I miss your mother."

"Ma?"

"Yes."

"Was she pwetty?"

"Beautiful…like you."

"Nah! I not pwetty, Mooshier Nadir said I cute, but ee didn't say I pweety."

"Well Nadir's a fool."

"Foo?"

"Yes."

"So…I pwetty!"

"Yes, just like your mother."

"Ma pwetty like…flow?"

"Yes, she was pretty…as pretty as a rose."

"Wose?"

"Yes, remember the flower I gave you for your birthday?"

"Yea! It was wound and wed and pwetty, but it had torns."

"Yes, just like you."

"I got torns?"

"When you become cross then you show your thorns."

"I no get…"

"I am speaking metaphorically."

"Wha…?"

"Never mind…I shall tell you when you are older."

"M'kay…Pa?"

"Yes dearling?"

"I tiwed, we go in home?"

"Yes, dearest."

Though painful memories still stung the background of his mind, Erik managed to give his child a brilliant smile as he gathered her into his arms and made the short trek towards their home.

**End.**

A/N: (cries) Written somewhere on the bus towards Germany. This one was very sad, but very fun to write. I know that I have served a conglomeration of sad fics lately, but I hope that the redeeming factor of this one was little Brigitte. Please review.


	6. Apocalypse

**Apocalypse **

Rating: **T**

By Ravenseye131

Christine was a disease. His whole life fell to pieces the minute he saw her, his breath became strained around her. Everything about her made him weak and tired. She was his pestilence.

The Phantom was overpowering him. Erik was doing his best to try and fight back. Using whatever resources he could to try and defeat his darker self. Erik was sinking faster and faster beneath the tides. 'Damn The Phantom,' he swore, 'Damn him and this loathsome inner War.'

Christine was dying without Erik. She felt empty and desperate. She'd made a terrible mistake in following Raoul. She clung to whatever meager memories she could, entreating to God so that he might save her from her own famine…the famine of missing Erik's love.

Erik never expected her to return, he never expected her to through herself at his feet and weep for his forgiveness. Now he was truly sinking, his soul was being crushed. Surely he was dying? And in the midst of her love, together they found an end equivalent in power only to death.

**End.**

A/N: The four horses of the Apocalypse, Famine, Pestilence, War and Death. I made a little metaphoric drabble using those elements. I rated it teen because of the brief sexual reference at the end. If you are confused please just ask and I'll try to explain as best I can. Please review and tell me your thoughts!


	7. My 'Supposed' Friend

**My 'Supposed' Friend**

Rated **M** (**sexual undertones**)

By Ravenseye131

Good lord they were at it again. Now I must say I have lived with my friend for many years of my life. He has always been very generous and kind to me and I expected no less when he finally fell in love and wed. The beautiful woman he took on, as his bride was shy, but no less kind and endearing. She treated me with respect so I invoked the same treatment unto her. For a moment I believed that their lustful trapezes to the bedroom would cease after a few weeks into their matrimony…goodness was I wrong. Every other minute it's, "Ooooo…" and "Uhhhh…" and "More, oh god oh god oh GOD!" It's enough to make you want to puke. As if things were not bad enough, they finally had a child. Now stupid me thought that the babe's constant need for attention when put a spur into their omnipresent procreating. Yet again I was sadly mistaken…barely five weeks after the little one's birth and they were having sex again! Now of course they have three children, but I wouldn't be surprised if this new bout brought about another!

I promised myself that when my friend's wife came into the picture I would not get jealous. I am afraid that I have already ruined that meager constitution; I am lonely! I miss that time not so long ago when my friend wasn't absorbed in his family's world; when he wasn't the doting father and habitually aroused husband, when he wasn't the joyous happy creature he is now. I am fully aware that that statement is a bit callous, but my friend was never the ebullient demon he is now. He is sorely neglecting his duties as the O.G and for that I find myself quite miffed. He also has forgotten to call me, gorgeous, beautiful or the diamond in his eye for the longest time. Those descriptions have become the abysmal attachments bestowed upon his darling 'Angel' and his perfect little 'Rogues' (a.k.a. his children). He has lost his shadowy, gloomy, cat like essence and for that I find myself weeping.

I must apologize, but I unfortunately must excuse myself from the common room they are currently masturbating in. Apparently the bedroom has been deemed boring and thus they've moved their 'love' into the common room and more specifically the large grand piano. I cannot find a single place that is exclusive of their _noises_ and I must suppress a groan when I find that my friend has only assured silence within his eldest offspring, Daemon's room. He's nearly seven now and is currently busying himself with drawing in a sketchbook. I always approach him with caution since the _incident _when he was one and a half. If there is one thing I do find endearing about this boy though, it is those luminous hazel eyes.

"Hello Ayesha, come to keep me company?"

And you know, I think that each gentle stroke on my head is a sign towards this becoming a beautiful friendship…at least, unless he once again suggests a dog. Then I'll claw his eyes out, after all a cat must keep her principles.

**End**

A/N: Aw poor Ayesha, Erik's too busy with Christine and Daemon to notice his kitty cat. Anyway please review and tell me what you think!


	8. Tangible Excuses

**Tangible Excuses**

Rating: **T** (**Obtrusive Humor and Sexual Undertones**)

By Ravenseye131

It was only a month or so after the terrible 'Don Juan Incident' that I, Francis P. Firman found myself in the most awkward of positions. Despite the excessive damage brought upon by the Chandelier fire, Opera Populaire was salvaged and deemed suitable for running again only two weeks after reconstruction began. My partner, Louis Van Andre, was as cowardly as they come and refused to rejoin me in the Opera business. So, it was with a heavy heart (and empty wallet) that I reopened Opera Populaire and began the tedious task of readmitting the pathetic troupe of Patrons. I was relieved to find that the mysterious O.G was nowhere to be found and no longer haunted the catwalks and backdrops. Christine Daae, who I was sure became Christine DeChagney, obviously could no longer perform so I once again had to turn to La Carlotta. I am not so stupid that I do not know how horrible the woman sounds, I certainly know that she cannot reach the higher notes and that when she attempts them she sounds like a skinned cat. However, the Patrons know no better and Carlotta was so desperate for work, following her husband's death, that there was no trouble in hiring her. It was almost better now that her husband was dead, for she no longer demanded the world to kiss her buxom ass. Pardon, I am afraid I am rather disgruntled and thus have lost my niche for upper class mannerisms. Anyway, we were around a month into reopening when the most bizarre happenings began. For starters, Miss Daae came to me for a job. She was the most bedraggled and empty soul I have seen for many a year, and though I found myself quite curious as to how she obtained her current visage I knew better than to ask. I gave her a job as the main chorus girl and understudy to La Carlotta, she did not complain nor did she appear offended, she merely nodded shyly and began upholding her pathetic position.

I was extremely perplexed when Miss Daae put on one of the many costumes for her role. For you see, dear reader, she was extremely thin and though she did her best to hide them, her form was dusted with painful bruises and scars. Yes, curiosity was biting me to the point of insanity, but I remained silent and went about business as usual. Now, one fine winter's day I happened to be at my office late and had just been preparing to leave when the mumbles of hushed voices made their way to me. I crept about the shadows and soon came upon the sight of Miss Daae sheltered within the arms of the infamous Phantom atop the dismal stage. I quirked my head and listened upon this most peculiar conversation:

"Oh Erik it was horrible! I made the worst decision!"

"Pray tell Mon Ange?"

"Well," She sniffled here, "I…I learned something horrible of Raoul!"

By this point I was damn near ready to reveal myself and order that she speak faster. I am not upper class you see and any damaging information towards a Viscount is like gold in this pathetic society.

"What did you learn?"

"I…I was happy at first, perhaps even joyous…but, well I came home one day and learned that…that…. that…he was a…_homosexual…_"

At this the Phantom burst into laughter and pulled away from her arms wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. As I said before I am not upper class so I had no idea as to what she was speaking of.

"S-stop laughing! It's not funny!"

"I beg to differ Mon Amour, tell me, was he in the act of something ungraceful?"

"He was diddling some other man's, well… manhood!"

I now understood perfectly what was going on and I must admit I had to stifle a laugh as well as the Phantom continued his gales of guffaws. Miss Daae pouted in a childish manner and turned stubbornly from the O.G.'s form. Still snickering, The Phantom (whose name I suppose is Erik) returned to her side and attempted speaking in a dignified manner.

"I am sorry Dearling, please, tell me what has happened to you?"

Once again Miss Daae's face became ghostly and she looked down as though she were afraid to speak. Yet, somehow the Phantom managed to coerce her into unveiling this awful mystery.

"Erik…do you believe in…vengeful spirits?"

The entire atmosphere became one of somber and I had to suppress a shudder as the room dipped in temperature.

"I happen to not, why?"

"Let's just say Pigani is not a friendly ghost."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Imagine walking down a flight of stairs and tripping over a precariously placed shoe to which an evil fat spirit stands floating above whilst you tumble your miserable way down."

"Dear lord he's haunting you?"

"No, I am purposely hurting myself so that you and everyone else will pity me for my stupidity in accepting a proposal to a gay man."

"…Really?"

"NO NOT REALLY YOU JACKASS!"

"I am not a jackass!"

"I beg to differ."

"Well, it seems as though you are at an impasse, what would you have me do?"

"I was hoping that you'd reconsider your proposition to my staying with you."

"Indeed?"

"Certainly, I am quite in the mood for a real man's attention."

"That is very tempting Mi Belle Dame Sans Merci, however, one who makes their bed must sleep in it."

"Come again?"

"You made the wrong choice and now you must suffer the consequences."

"What are you my father? I figured you'd want a beautiful virgin in which to rut lustfully with?"

"What man would not? However, I do have dignity Christine."

"And what the hell does that mean?"

"It means I am not one for sleeping with a woman who has slept with a gay man."

"I DID NOT SLEEP WITH HIM!"

"…Really…?"

At this point I could practically feel Christine's nervousness as the Phantom virtually pounced her and began a rather passionate (albeit highly sexual) lip-lock. I could see plain as day that he was thrusting vigorously and though I am no saint even I know when it is time to disappear. And as I made my tempered way towards the exit I did my best to block out the sounds of 'romance' blossoming from the stage.

**End.**

A/N: Pobre pobre Firman, lustful E/C and gay Raoul. (laughs hysterically) This came to me after reading a random humor related story. Anyway, please review and tell me your thoughts! Ravenseye131


	9. Hunt

**Hunt **

Rating **M** (**Seriously, Includes a Pretty Intense Lemon**)

By Ravenseye131

The musical notes danced around his ears and sent tremors of uncontainable lust coursing through his loins. Damn her for hiding like this! She had taunted him, seduced him and then raced off teasing him with the flash of her naked thighs pumping her lithe form away. Now she was singing their song, drawing out each note as slow as possible so that he might drown in his own desire. He started to growl as he continued his hunt, searching high and low. Suddenly she shifted and he spotted her, his gold eyes narrowing in perverse thirst. She gasped in surprise when he grabbed her and held her tightly against his straining arousal. He whispered softly the last lines of their song whilst fingering her flower. She was panting and moaning incoherently, her hips bucking against his hand as he brutally kissed her neck and shoulder. She reached eagerly behind and grasped his manhood squeezing it enthusiastically. He groaned and bit softly at her shoulder before swooping her bridal style into his arms and making his eager way towards the music room. He kept her distracted and kissed her with all the love and passion held within his once lonely soul. She squeaked in surprise when her bare back made contact with the cool smooth surface of his grand piano. She looked wide-eyed at him and he merely smirked in a devious manner before lifting her legs and wrapping them around his midriff. She moaned as his cock played hide and seek with her. He chuckled into her mouth as he caught her for another searing kiss. She suddenly cried out pulling away from his mouth and looking deeply into his eyes as she whimpered his name.

"_Erik…Please…_"

Incapable of denying her, Erik quickly thrust within her and began a rhythm that both knew well. She moaned and he groaned and both listened to the piano as it shifted against the floor. In one perfect climax they came together and held tightly as they soared above the heavens and lost everything but one another. As they gasped and fell back down from their euphoria a wail filled the lair and brought a smile to Erik's face.

"Your son wishes for your attention Christine."

Christine laughed and shook her head before standing and rushing off to tend to their five-month old child. She paused at the door and turned once more throwing her love a brilliant smile.

"What?"

"I thought we agreed that next time Marquis cried _you _would attend to him…?"

Erik blanched and shifted his molten gold eyes from the carpet to the ceiling.

"Erik…"

He turned nervously towards Christine and stifled a laugh at the motherly tone and pose she presented him with.

"Alright Mon Amour, but if he's soiled himself then all bets are off."

They laughed cheerily together pausing only to throw on robes before meandering towards their son's room.

**End.**

A/N: Oi…(bashes head repeatedly against the keyboard) God that lemon was awful! My apologies over its falseness, I will say I like the end, but I sadly am not a very good sex-scene writer. Also forgive me if it is offensive as I often am very bad at subtly. Anyway, please review and tell me what you thought! Ravenseye131


	10. Somewhat There

**Somewhat There**

Rating: **K+**

By Ravenseye131

Truly whoever said the apple doth not fall far from the tree obviously knew exactly of what they were speaking. In the six years that my son Gabriel has been alive he has followed nearly every step in his Papa's shadow. I remember that snowy winter's day when his screams filled my ears and the midwife proclaimed, 'It's a boy!' I recall how Erik came in trembling with fear and excitement, how his eyes filled inexplicable joy as he was handed our new babe and found him to be a perfect little godsend. I remember the feeling of weakness and darkness reaching up within me. How I smiled and whispered Gabriel, how the look of joy upon my beloved husband's face fell, how the edges of my vision became blurred, how the doctors came rushing in…their voices so loud, so faded. The screams of agony of my child and the hopeless cries of my name from my Erik. I remember feeling like I was floating…then blinding darkness…then days later I saw my beloved again. He wept at a grave, my grave, the helpless forms of Antoinette and Meg Giry standing not far off, the younger of the two holding Gabriel as they too wept. I found myself angry, 'Why?' I argued often with myself. I suppose that's why I remain tied to my husband and child, unable to move onward due to my own stubbornness. Perhaps also because my own selfish desire to journey into the next world hand in hand with my Angel of Music. Whatever the reason I am standing here, I find myself incapable of complaining. I am dead, yes, but Gabriel is alive as is Erik. So long as they are together and happy they need never know that La Daae, Le Phantomess de la Opera, 'Beloved Wife and Mother' or just plain Christine is guarding and watching over them.

**End**

A/N: I felt like a first-person work for once, thus came this. Please review luvs! ;P


	11. Post Mortem

**Post Mortem**

Rated: **T** (Character Death)

By Ravenseye131

How quaint is the white rose that rests in a bouquet upon my bureau? How soft is the feel of my silk bodice, ensnaring me in this false cocoon? Ah sweet metal, thy smooth surface is the only precipice I can see. The ghostly siren staring blankly at me is mocking me with her empty eyes. They are a swampy disgusting brown, devoid of feeling, devoid of love, devoid of…I grow tired, and the tendrils of my _future husband's _celebratory ball swirl about my head. It is all a _lie_…What choice did I have? What honor is there in this worthless upcoming marriage? How can I give myself to a man who is not my solace in the dark?

For every second I have spent within the presence of that upper-class filth I have become to reek of the Devil's fiery smell. I was damned to this abominable Hell, where the simple shuffle of each maid's steps aches in my ears like the cacophony of sounds that this bullet brings about. It is fitting then that you gentle weapon, with your sulfur stench and aching sound take me away from here. She is still watching me, sneering at the fact that I have stained my dress, that I've knocked over the vase of roses, that I've shot myself and still no one notices. Why would they? I am the fiancé, the happy, glorious, joyful, utterly imprisoned whore to Satan himself.

Dully, I can hear the resounding footsteps of someone approaching. Here they will find me, leaning spread-eagle onto my dresser top, my soulless eyes staring into my damned mirror and wishing that this whole mess would just be done with. What the hell am I waiting for? Why don't I feel the 'Holy Guiding Light?' Why is it that my Master keeps me yearning so? Yet, here now I stand! Waiting for you! You're late! You leave me here, waiting miserably at this horrid mirror whilst the screech of a thousand moronic fops tingles downstairs! Still! I cannot see your face in the mirror! I even wrote your impassioned words with my last breath! Gracefully gliding my self made red ink across the smooth surface of the glass! How can you not see them? Not come running? Not sweep me into your shadowed wings and lead me from here? I'm growing cold…my whole world is dimming. I can hear someone calling my name from a distance, but I of course am incapable of movement. The door behind me opens and a scream emits from the little chambermaid. Ah, the blissful horror of another's terror, the sweet encompassing darkness bleeds a smile upon my long dead face and as the end comes upon me I leave with only the smallest wonder…How could you leave me here, standing in the dark…?

**End**

A/N: The person who was speaking was Christine, and she was speaking about Raoul and Erik in her last moments before Eternal Darkness. I feel as though it is pretty obvious as to what's going on, but if you are confused please send me a message and I will explain. Anyway, please review!


	12. I Am My Master's POEM!

**I Am My Master's**

Rating: K+

_By Ravenseye131_

Mirror Mirror on the wall

Who's the fairest of us all?

Not I

Too many teardrops in my eyes.

Phantom, Phantom

Tall and proud

Stand before me with your crown

Killed my Master, Angel, Love

Promise now to destroy my betrothed

He's but a boy, barely a man

Trying merely to protect my hand

"A foolish Fop," Erik once ground out

Erik yes the man who I love, but lost to this Phantom lout

You killed him and left me completely alone

For Raoul can never call me his own

I am Erik's so I say

And as I kiss the Phantom away

I know that Erik's song will always play

Mirror Mirror on the wall

Who's the fairest of us all?

**End**

A/N: A poem I wrote representing the thoughts that go through Christine during the last scene when the 'Phantom' is about to kill Raoul and she kisses him to bring back Erik. I know that's confusing, but I think that Erik and the Phantom are two different people, basically his split personality. If that is confusing please send me a message and I'll do my best to explain. Anyway please review! ;) Ravenseye131


	13. Into the Dark

**Into the Dark**

Rating: **T** (character deaths)

By Ravenseye131

Simple is the room to which I stand within now. It is octangular and dark, the only sources of light coming from between the cracked pieces of glass. The pale light is that of the moon and drowns out the sounds of the incessant rioters here to tear apart my soul. I care not for them, my rose has left me, abandoned me for an eerily girly Viscount. Yet, as I am drowning in this insufferable Hell I can here her crying. I rise, weakly, my body stumbling slightly from the blood loss. Breaking the mirrors and passing through into this world was all I could do after she left. Now though, I can hear her voice…

'_Why do you leave me here…standing in the dark…?'_

I'll never leave her! Never, even after her mistake! She is but a mortal, a gentle dove whose sheltered heart hath been protected far too long. She knows no better, then or now! A few more bumbling steps and I can see her on the other side of the glass. She's bleeding profusely from her wrists, but a smile is upon her face as she creatively writes with her own blood the lyrics to my song. I attempt to run faster, she's going to die if she keeps bleeding like that. No matter where she is she mustn't die, whether I am with her or not. Yet she is reaching for something that is making me more fearful. I can see from here, the pale steel and twisted metal that clicks and hisses like a viper as she cocks it and sluggishly brings it to her temple. No! I cannot allow this! Not my angel, not my beloved! But I am too slow, I feel as though I am running through water, she's already smirking and mouthing goodbye. Then it's over, a single explosive scream ringing about the room as her blood flies and her eyes open in deadly shock. She sinks forward and smacks spread-eagle onto her dresser, her blank eyes staring blindly into her mirror. She's whispering weakly now, she needs me! I am almost there. A run faster and cry her name,

'**_Christine! Christine! Wait! Please, Wait!'_**

She suddenly stalls and faces me, her beautiful luscious curls fanning out around her face.

_'Come Erik, you're running late!'_

She's teasing me again, and I smile wistfully as I take her hand.

**_'Late or not, I will always follow you into the dark.'_**

Slowly the darkness encompasses us and we kiss softly before we let our souls drift towards the afterlife.

**End.**

A/N: Kind of a sequel to Post Mortem, Erik's dead and finds Christine and together they leave. Semi-Happy ending in my opinion…anyway, please review! Ravenseye131


	14. Revenge Is But A Thorn

**Revenge Is But A Thorn**

Rating: **M**

By Ravenseye131

"You try my patience! Make your choice!"

Christine's eyes were filled with terror and resembled murky water as she trembled. As though the Grim Reaper stood scythe to her neck, flashes of her past danced before her eyes and told of times when Erik was an Angel, not a disturbing specter known simply as 'The Phantom.' The gurgling cough of Raoul brought Christine to her senses and she looked up shakily into his clouding blue eyes. Fearfully, she turned her gaze unto Erik and repressed a shutter as she noted how joyous he appeared over Raoul's suffering. A dangerous smirk was playing in his eyes and his normally somber/stoic visage was tainted with the thrill of the 'hunt.' Finding a small piece of bravery in the very pit of her soul, Christine slowly rose from her collapsed position on the floor and stubbornly made her way towards Erik.

"Pitiful creature of darkness what kind of life have you known? God give me strength to show you, you are not alone!"

With that, she amorously pressed her lips against his and felt the enigmatic explosion of passion and love that she'd so often felt in the presence of her Master. Yet, midway through the thrill of their expressive amore, pain tore through Christine's soul and she tore from Erik's lips with a horrendous cry as blood spilt from her lips and a gunshot echoed through the room. Both Erik and Raoul (whose neck was loosened just enough by Erik's inability to both remain murderous and kiss his beloved) swiveled their eyes quickly to the sight of none other than Carlotta. The former Prima Dona stood knee deep in water, her body covered in the obvious struggle of navigating the Phantom's tunnels, a smoking pistol held at arm's length and an insane smile playing about her lips.

"In revenge for my beloved husband! The Phantom's little bitch!"

A final 'ha' of laughter was all that followed before Carlotta brought the pistol to her own temple and ended her own life. Raoul was both physically and emotionally worn and remained in an impassive state of shock. Erik on the other hand immediately cursed Carlotta to rot in Hell before swiftly kneeling and bringing a palm to his beloved's pulse. Dimly, it fluttered beneath his hand and he took a sharp breath as agony began to consume him. As if knowing he was there, Christine weakly unveiled her eyes and smiled slowly at his face. Blood seeped like a flaccid creek from her deep wound, and as she split her rose-colored lips, more of the precious life-giving sustenance trickled from her mouth.

"I…I am…s-sorry…"

"No! No, never be sorry! None of this is your fault! Mine, only mine!"

Erik was weeping indefinitely, tears smearing the sweat and grime from the ash and his overexertion whilst fighting Raoul and fleeing from the result of his rage.

"L…l-love…"

Christine coughed violently, more blood spray painting the floor. She shook, and released a few tears of angst at the knowledge that her life was rapidly fading.

"Save your strength please!"

Erik's voice was whispered desperately and he was incapable of containing a sob as her eyelids lowered slightly.

"E-erik…I l…l-love you…"

She took another shallow breath before slipping into unconsciousness and allowing her mind to escape the pain of reality. The impact of Christine's words shook Erik to his very core and he was as incapable of movement as Raoul until he realized that the life within Christine was slowly dwindling. Drawing her to his embrace, he wasted no time in smashing one of his many mirrors and taking his swift leave through the new tunnel hidden within. He would get his Angel to hospital in time and should he not; he swore to die alongside her.

Meanwhile…

Raoul was relieved when the insane mob of angered patrons reached Erik's lair and released him from the lasso. He withheld the information on the Phantom's whereabouts and merely took his leave with the excuse that he was exhausted. Upon arriving at his Chateau, he knew that Christine was either dead or dying. It was a hopeless cause to imagine that she was all right and even on the intense off chance that she was, he knew that her heart was the Phantom's. He had witnessed the force of Christine's love for the mysterious Erik and knew that he could only hope for her happiness should she survive and live with him. He sighed despairingly before crawling sleepily into his bed and letting the emptiness of dreamland console him.

Years Later…

Viscountess Izabella DeChagney, wife of Viscount Raoul DeChagney, was finding herself quite distressed as she tried to make her way from the Market back towards her home. She had come from an Earl in Winchester England and knew nothing really of France or for that matter the streets of France. Hopelessly lost and embarrassed over the fact that she had turned down her many servant's offers of help this early morning she'd set out to buy an Anniversary present for Raoul. Admitting defeat if only for a moment, Izabella sank onto the side of a fountain and cupped her head in her hands wearily. She jumped slightly when the gentle voice of another woman resounded within her ears.

"Are you alright, Madame?"

Lifting her eyes, Izabella was taken aback as she took in the sight of a beautiful curly haired angel offering assistance with a warm smile.

"Ah, yes, I…well, you see I am unfortunately lost…"

The warm smile never left the woman's face as she nodded in an understanding manner before once again speaking.

"Perhaps I can tell you where to go. Tell me, where do you live?"

Blushing once again at her lack of knowledge, Izabella's gaze drifted to the ground and surprisingly caught sight of a small boy clutching to the young woman's hand. She started slightly when the young woman spoke once more.

"Please do not be embarrassed, I merely wish to help."

Gathering her courage, Izabella nodded and offered a meek smile.

"Thank you, but well, I am so lost I do not even know exactly what the name of the street is that I live on."

"I see, well, do you recall anything familiar about where it is you live?"

"Just the name, DeChagney Manor."

Izabella watched as the woman's kind smile slipped for a moment and a look of conviction paled her face.

"DeChagney Manor you say?"

"Ah yes, at least that is what it is in English…"

The woman came out of her reprieve and smiled as she gave detailed instructions on how Izabella might return home from her current position. Afterwards, Izabella politely curtsied and turned to leave before suddenly stopping and turning back.

"If I may Madame…what is your name?"

"Christine, Christine Destler."

"Well thank you Madame Destler."

And as Izabella later regaled the tale to her husband, she could have sworn a whimsical smile appeared upon his face before he whispered in an awed voice,

"So you did save her after all…"

**End.**

A/N: Woo-hoo! This one was fun to write! Inspired at 2 a.m. from Mountain Dew! Anyway, please review! ;) Ravenseye131


	15. Daimio for Demon

**Daimio for Demon**

Rating: M (For Language)

By Ravenseye131

For as long as I can remember I have been on my own. I am a bastard son of the Late Viscountess Christine DeChagney and have no siblings be they my natural Father's or _Sir _Viscount's. For years I was told that I had no siblings because of my mother, but thanks to my own research it has become obvious that _Sir _Viscount is impotent. Allow me to annunciate, because my mother was pressured into marrying _Sir _Viscount she found little to no attraction in him. I am only twelve, thus still a child, yet even I know that no passion and love within a relationship equals nothingness. Therefore, my mother detested being anywhere in the vicinity of _Sir _Viscount and even went so far as to have her own bedroom. The absence of my mother's 'attentions' consequently caused _Sir _Viscount to take on mistresses with many colorful backgrounds. As of lately he has brought home Lady Tredeau. A former prostitute, her attitude is…shall we say, obtuse? Anyway, the _Lady's _openness to _Sir _Viscount's life and (specifically) his bedroom affairs makes not only an interesting yarn, but became of great help to me. You see, I have reached the breaking point behind my parentage and thus formulated a plan aimed at getting what I want. Now, all of the mistresses are sworn to secrecy, but I found that a few drops of liquor had Lady Tredeau spewing the most squalid information I'd ever heard.

For one, I learned that _Sir _Viscount is a horrendous lover and apparently barren. Secondly, my mother, who passed away when I was nearly four, committed suicide. Finally, _Sir _Viscount is not my father. The last did not come as a surprise, after all, _Sir _Viscount has never once referred to me as his son nor have I once been allowed to call him father. The second piece of information was more of a painful reminder than a shock. I always had suspicions surrounding mother's passing, especially after I was told that she died merely because God decided it was her time. My mother's reasons for suicide were and still are her own, however she did leave a letter meant for my father. _Sir_ Viscount immediately hid the letter and he denies that it ever even existed. I know better than that though and my simple interrogation of Lady Tredeau has led me to _Sir _Viscount's elaborate study and a secret drawer beneath a small bust of the Viscount's late grandfather. The letter is faded, but still sealed and written in large bold letters on the front are '**For Erik's Eyes Only**.'

I know not who Erik is and dismiss the information by tucking the letter in my coat pocket and investigating the drawer further. Newspaper clippings from my mother's past greet me and in each one I find my mother's name resting beside the words 'Opera Populaire.' And so with the assistance of a few kind strangers I am now standing before the charred ruins of Opera Populaire. From what little information I have, Mother was once known as La Daae and was the leading soprano of the illustrious building abandoned here before me. Apparently, she was raised in the Opera House and trained by the supposed Opera Ghost. Said Phantom fell in love with her and she with him, but her voice rose her to stardom and got the attention of the Viscount. According to Lady Tredeau, the Viscount blackmailed my mother into marriage. Of course, this still leaves the question of my existence. Desperate to remain loved in the Phantom's eyes, my mother described her predicament to him and obviously gained his forgiveness since I am alive. Anyway, by stringing together Lady Tredeau's statements and the newspaper clippings I have come to reason that the Phantom destroyed Opera Populaire in an attempt to distract the patrons and the Viscount whilst he eloped with my mother. Somehow though, the plan failed and the Phantom disappeared after the Viscount took my mother. Later, mother became informed of my company within her womb and managed to keep my presence a secret until it became impossible not to notice. _Sir _Viscount was not pleased and did his best to fool the public that I was indeed his, but many are not fooled that easily. After all I am the complete opposite of him in every way.

For instance, he was born in early spring and I in mid-September. Mother often mentioned how much I resembled father; she used to say that I matched him in spirit as well. The first indication that made me realize I was not the Viscount's spawn is the fact that I have wavy black hair, emerald green eyes and a tan complexion. The Viscount on the other hand has blonde hair, ice-blue eyes and a inbred pale white pallid. I am called Lord because the Viscount wishes the community to assume I am his heir, but the reality of the situation is that I am shunned and treated like a common servant within the safety of the Viscount's private manor. My roommate is the chambermaid's son, Jacques and it is thanks to his stealth that I obtained the drink in which to drug Lady Tredeau. His mother (Madame Briselle) also managed to obtain something for me. When I was ten, she presented me with a gift my mother had asked her to give when the time was right. Said gift was a pocket knife my father had carved himself and given to mother with the hope she'd be able to protect herself had anything gone wrong with the Opera plan. That is at least what Madame Briselle explained to me when I received it. Now the blade rests beside the letter within my coat pocket and because I am nervous I continuously am reaching within my coat and making sure both are still there. My other hand is occupied with carrying a lantern as I wander a bit aimlessly through the catacombs of the Opera's basement. My hope is that there will be clues left behind in the Phantom's lair, which may indicate where he is, and maybe even more of Mother's past.

I unexpectedly trip on an awkwardly placed stone and fall face first onto what appears to be a wooden platform. My light has gone out and plunged me into uncomfortable darkness and as I slowly get to my feet I can feel the dull throbbing in my ankle indicating my clumsiness. I honestly dislike the darkness greatly, it always reminds me of the graveyard. I visit mother's grave often and am often perplexed when I arrive and find that a single red rose with a black satin ribbon tied to the stem is resting on her tomb. I know for a fact that the Viscount does not visit mother's grave once but every year and anytime I mention roses he throws a tantrum. I can only assume that it is a rose from a good friend of her past and merely stumble blindly forward. Unfortunately, I am not expecting the lake right before me and wind up making a loud splash as I fall in. Coughing and sputtering, I swim forward and after a few minutes and twist and turns I appear at a lavishly decorated embankment. There is dust and trash and the remnants of a riot leading up to a marvelously beautiful organ. Candelabras surround the instrument and make it glow in an ethereal manner. I mean not to brag, but I am quite an accomplished pianist and whenever the Viscount is not around I delight in playing as loudly as I wish. Though he himself was once a patron to this building, I believe he despises me so much that he refuses my playing while he is around. Madame Brielle says that I am a genius, but I don't think I am that good. Anyway, I grow bold under the spell of music and calmly reach out and skim my fingers across the surface of the organ keys.

Surprisingly, the organ is very clean and not a speck of grime as touched its marvelous surface. Unexpectedly, a hand encloses my windpipe from behind and I choke helplessly as the countenance of a powerful six-foot tall man lifts me easily and throws me effortlessly from the organ's watchful presence. I collide harshly with the stone floor and curse miserably after skidding to a halt. I can hear the echoing footsteps of my attacker approaching and swiftly brandish my only means of protection whilst rolling to face my opponent. Spotting my knife, the shadowed being screeches to a stop and booms loudly,

"Where did you get that?"

Gathering my courage and tapping into my inherited stubbornness, I speak hoping I sound more frightening than I feel.

"I owe no explanation to you!"

He growls loudly and steps closer speaking harshly.

"You are in my home boy and thus will answer my questions!"

I cannot help but sneer as I lose control of my temper.

"You're one pitiful creature of darkness if this the only life you have known!"

My rebuke seems to have startled him, for he freezes his advance and lowers his arm. It is then for the first time that I notice he is carrying a lasso. I jump when he speaks again.

"What is your name boy?"

I am caught off guard and I quirk my brow before speaking.

"Your appearance suggests that you are not familiar with the society above…"

"I did not ask for your opinion."

"Hm, if you lived above ground you'd know that I am 'The Bitch's Son.'"

The mysterious man has now wandered into the candlelight and I can see the left side of his face. He appears confused, however I cannot be sure since half of him is still in shadow.

"Elaborate, I am not familiar with such a title."

I sigh and decide to lower my weapon, as he appears to be more curious than murderous at this point.

"My name for public's sake is Lord Daimio, but I prefer-."

I am unable to finish my sentence as within a quarter of a second the man has me back in his deadly grasp. Yet, when he pulls me up to eye level I am facing him and gasp when I see that he is wearing a mask. I read enough of the articles to know the Phantom was feared for both his temper and his mask. He watches my eyes widen in shock and mistakes it for fear. He sneers and smirks evilly before gripping my neck tighter and shouting loudly,

"Yes, selfish little spoiled Raoul DeChagney's boy comes to pick fun at Erik one last time!"

There is one thing about me that all of normal society knows and that is that I absolutely despise being referred to as the Viscount's son. I bite the Phantom's hand as hard as I can and once more draw my knife as his hand reflexively releases me. I land and stalk towards the Phantom as I nastily spit.

"I fucking hate that piss of a man and if you ever relate me to that shithole again I'll cut your tongue out!"

The Phantom was completely unaffected and merely drew a sword as he shouted back.

"Who are you to come down here and fucking tell me what you want! I am twice your age and strength boy and I could kill you before your damn hand even reached the top of my boot."

"I hate you!"

I lunge in an effort to affect him as badly as he has me. I am aware of the tears in my eyes as I slash blindly towards his blurred form and continue babbling uselessly as I'm attacking.

"You think you know everything! You think that you can just assume I came down here to fucking tease you! I don't give a damn who you are! I only came down to this dump so I could find my goddamn father!"

By this time he had caught me and was holding me back oddly as I wept and screamed at the same time. I hiccupped several times and looked up stubbornly as the Phantom sighed and kneeled to my height.

"Why would your father be here?"

I too sighed and dug within my pocket pulling out my mother's note.

"My mother died when I was a child and left this note to give to my real father."

"The Viscount is not your father?"

He seemed quite incredulous and looked at me curiously.

"He is not, I know my father only by his first name."

"And what is his name…?"

"Erik."

The Phantom's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and I jumped when he snatched the letter from my hand.

"Hey! Give that back!"

He ignored me completely as he stood up and tore the seal away.

"Stop it! Stop it you bastard!"

He was still ignoring me, but as I was angrily pounding my fists against his thigh, I realized he was crying. And then before I could even react, he'd pulled me into a bone-crushing hug.

"Ah! What are you doing? Lemme go!"

I struggled madly, but it was as if he didn't care, he simply held me tighter and cried into my shoulder. He once more drew back and looked at me with a kind of tense determination that made me nervous.

"Daimio is it?"

"Y-yes…what's going on…?"

"I…I'm Erik…your father…"

I stumbled backwards in shock and shook my head.

"But…but you can't be…the Phantom is a criminal! My mother would never sink as low as to love a criminal!"

Sighing, the Phantom handed me my mother's note and waited patiently as I read:

"_My Dearest, I love you with all my heart and suffer daily with the knowledge that I am forever imprisoned within the confines of this Manor. You have been my mentor and guide for years and thus my heart lies with you. I cannot stand here any longer knowing that you are alone and that our son is shunned like some sort of horrid creature, thus I wish for you to please take him in. Daimio is yours and is turning five in a few weeks, I cannot have him living with Raoul any longer. Especially since he is treated lower than dirt. Please Mon Ange, I will gladly suffer alone if only…_"

I could not read any longer and turned from the note. Her suicide made sense now, she obviously wanted to contact my father and naturally the Viscount denied her. Hoping that her death would make him change his mind, she obviously didn't him to go so far as to keep me and treat me like a servant. Once more my attention turned towards the Phantom…err, Erik…err, Father.

"So…what does this mean…uh, Sir?"

He laughed, a deep whimsical laugh that made a nervous smile rise to my own lips.

"Please, call me anything but that."

"Okay, how about Father?"

"That is good."

"Alright, um Father, what happens now?"

"Well I take you to my real home outside the city and raise you as I should have twelve years ago."

"What about the Viscount?"

"What about that poof?"

"…Do you think he'll care?"

"If he does I'll kill him."

I smiled nervously and decided to venture with one more question.

"…You know about mom…right?"

The smile he'd been wearing slipped for a moment, but he merely shook his head sadly and spoke once more.

"I assume you visit her grave often?"

I nodded and he smiled softly once more.

"You saw the red roses then?"

I nodded again and nervously gave him a hug as he took my hand and we ventured off together towards a life hopefully without turmoil.

**End.**

A/N: Ughhh, I am soooo sick….(coughs) forgive the lateness of this little story and forgive the possible grammatical errors and its possible crapiness. Please review as I try to get well Ravenseye131 ;)


	16. Birds and Bees

**Birds and Bees**

Rating: **K+**

By Ravenseye131

A child is a naturally inquisitive being. This is a well-known fact, yet every parent still inevitably finds himself or herself in an awkward situation in which their spawn presents them with queries of an uncomfortable nature. Such was the result of newlywed parents Erik and Christine. They were not new to the process of child rearing, nay; they had already come blessed with that irreplaceable paternal and maternal instinct. Still, when their first born, Devon, at the tender age of eight came bearing the primordial question, "where do babies come from?" Neither parent had a clue as to what to do. An outsider to such a situation would have perhaps burst into a fit of laughter, but the situation was anything but to our poor Monsieur and Madame Phantom. The curious eight-year-old had just returned from school all smiles and joy, finding his parents both cheerfully singing in the family room. The younger siblings of five, two and one were all gathered about the room as well, blissfully enjoying their parent's talents. The youngest, Brielle, sat contentedly in Christine's lap blowing happy bubbles as 'Mummy' sang and Papa played piano. As younger brothers tend to do, five-year-old Pierce, leapt up and tackled the elder sibling in a bone-crushing hug. Both parents ceased their melodious harmonics and approached Devon with full intention of loving greetings. Two-year-old Ariana also adorned welcoming condolences to the oldest child before being scooped into the adoring arms of 'Papa Ghost.' Making leeway towards the kitchen for supper seemed the perfect time to quest for an answer to the problem that had been chasing poor Devon since an earlier chat with a fifteen-year-old. Young Devon had been minding his own business in school when one of the older children in the one-room schoolhouse mentioned something to his fellow friend along the lines of 'Gaston must be awfully busy if he's already got Michelle with kid.' Devon, being the living mimic of Erik, had very little interest in further delving into the older kid's mind and preferred to keep the visage of an introvert focusing completely on his studies. Thus, we once more return to the present and find master Devon calmly questioning,

"Papa, where do babies come from?"

Immediately both parents stopped in their tracks, causing the three children old enough to walk to stop quizzically as their mother turned a furious beet red and their father had the most perplexed and panicked look decorating his normally calm affront. Thinking quickly, Christine shifted Brielle and swiftly herded Pierce and Ariana away. Poor Erik made a mental note to get revenge on his beloved wife later before patting Devon on the head and imagining a lie to fool his adorable son.

"Babies come from rose bushes."

Devon gave Erik the most incredulous look the young father had ever seen and he could not help chuckling as he calmly said,

"How about we go eat and I'll tell you the reality when you're older…and when I've more properly prepared for it."

Shrugging at his Papa, Erik gently took his son's hand and led the way towards food wherein much later that evening the whole matter of babies was forgotten.

**End.**

A/N: Okay, insert reviews please o' beloved readers. I apologize for my lateness in updating. I have only recently recovered from a bout of the flu and have unfortunately had the misfortune of restarting school. I promise to update more regularly then before, but they shall probably only come once or twice a week. Anywho thanks for being patient! Ravenseye131


	17. Whisper By Twilight

**Whisper By Twilight**

Rating: **T**

By Ravenseye131

"Come on Markus!"

"Yeah! We found a way inside!"

Intense gold eyes widened in excitement at the proclamation of two mischievous ten-year olds. The first, a blonde haired lad with dark brown eyes was waiting patiently by a collapsed charred beam. The second, a blonde haired blue-eyed imp was already beginning to venture below an abandoned and burnt down building. Markus picked up his pace and soon was right beside both children.

"Ludwig, did mum say this was okay?"

"Stop being such a sissy Louie!"

"Both of you shut up!"

Ludwig stomped angrily alongside his twin as they followed the natural born leader Markus. The curly raven hued hair of the eleven year old glowed eerily off the candlelight, which danced rhythmically within the confines of a torch. Though it was merely sunset beyond the fallen walls, within the remnants of the fire tortured building the air and atmosphere had plunged into a silent and fearful macabre nightglow. Recently the rains that had come and gone above ground remained in the darkened world and the occasional plip plop of dewdrops made the boys jump. Suddenly the narrow passageway opened up and the three children froze in awe as they beheld the wondrous splendor of a partially destroyed theatre stage. Winding aimlessly, tendrils of ash trailed the boy's forms and they silently oo'ed until they at last set foot upon the old stage. Props from the final performance still hung limply and Louie and Ludwig began to search for 'buried treasure.' A sense of remembrance and sadness filled Markus as he softly traced his hands across the velvet curtains. His somber countenance went unnoticed to his twin companions and he sighed depressingly before turning back towards their over-zealous forms.

"Lud, Lou, less go!"

"Hold on Markus!"

"Yeh! We want to find the buried treasure!"

Markus rolled his amber eyes and began angrily going after them.

"You guys have to be the dumbest-."

The cracked and untamed wood abruptly gave way and Markus screamed as he fell down to the unknown below.

0000000000000000

Markus awoke in almost complete darkness. His head ached horribly and as he weakly sat up he immediately felt the burning pain of broken ribs and a terribly fractured wrist. Delicately, he clutched his snapped limb to his chest and wearily sat up in an attempt to take in his surroundings. Pale moonlight dipped through many cracks in the ceiling above and alerted Markus to how long he'd been incapacitated. With his unbroken hand, he slowly adjusted his position once more and stood on shaky legs. The world swayed dangerously, but a few blinks and deep breaths brought everything within focus. The place he was now in was oddly familiar and he couldn't help but feel the hairs on the nape of his neck rise in that paranormal manner. Shivering, Markus stumbled awkwardly through the tunnel he'd apparently fallen into and gasped when he unexpectedly appeared at the mouth of an enormous lake. Timidly, he dipped his foot in the frigid water and cursed when he realized that he would unfortunately have to take a swim if he were to escape. Two hours and desperate, flailing Markus collapsed on the shore on the other side from whence he first ventured. He knew it was bad, he knew that he had to fight the unstoppable exhaustion, but he was too weak to do so and slowly succumbed to the deliriousness of unconsciousness.

A cool cloth pressed to his forehead was all it took for Markus to snap awake. His gold eyes registered the first thing within range and were shocked to find a beautiful brown curly haired angel sitting beside him, dapping his fever away. He shifted to get a better look at the woman when a firm palm unexpectedly pressed against his shoulder and coerced him back against the satin pillows. The palm belonged to that of a raven-haired man whom also bore glossy white wings. Both angels were smiling gently at him and Markus couldn't help but smile back. The female angel had tears in her eyes and being naturally curious, Markus queried the saddened immortal.

"I am sad child for I know you are alone in this world."

Markus looked down sadly at the reminder of his orphaned state and was surprised when the male angel lifted his head with his hand pressed under his chin.

"Does it bother you much?"

"No…not really…I live with Aunt Meg and my cousins Ludwig and Louie, but…I…I miss my parents…"

He was only three when his mother died, she had fallen prey to some disease shortly after Markus's birth and he'd never met his Father.

"Do you remember them?"

"Bits and pieces of my Mum, I…I couldn't really see her often even when she was alive…she was…so sick…so…so…sick."

"What about your Father?"

The female angel had once more spoken and Markus couldn't help but laugh innocently.

"I only know stories of him, the rest I make up."

The angels shared a look that spoke delves deeper than poor Markus could comprehend, but just when he was about to question them, the male angel pressed a pocket watch to his hand and pulled him into a hug.

"We do not have long Markus, thus I can only give you this and the promise that your parents are always around."

The female angel also drew young Markus into a warm hug before kissing him motherly on the forehead and beginning to fade.

"Take care of yourself Markus…"

"And stay out of trouble!"

He knew who they were, and silently cried as the magical place he was visiting disappeared and the gloomy darkness of sleep encompassed his form.

It had taken Ludwig and Louie the better part of an hour to get their parents and grandparents and come rushing back to the ruins of the old Opera House. From there it had taken Nadir all but twenty minutes to find Markus curled sleepily in the embrace of the dilapidated organ's bench. Amazingly, even after the fall Markus appeared free of injury and upon coming to smiled brightly for the first time since the knowledge that his mother was dying had come to pass. None of the adults questioned the boys and decided that nearly falling to death was punishment enough. The very day after the incident, Markus desperately begged the Giry's into taking him to the graveyard. They allotted his plea and watched stunned as he raced to his mother's tomb and placed not one but two blood red roses with matching black satin bows upon her resting abode. And somewhere in the misgivings of Heaven, Markus's parents smiled happily.

**End.**

A/N: Woo-hoo! This one was kind of fun to write. I am satisfied with how it turned out, except for maybe one or two things. To clarify, Markus is Erik's and Christine's son (duh) whose an orphan, who lives with the Giry's: Antoinette, Meg, Meg's husband, Meg's twin sons: Louie and Ludwig and Nadir just because he's like the 'Uncle.' If you're confused please send me a message and I'll try to explain as best I can. Anyway please review! ;) Ravenseye131


	18. To Find A Way Home

**To Find A Way Home**

Rating: **M**

By Ravenseye131 

The night was cold and brisk, Erik looked over the silent Parisian streets as a frozen rain drizzled gently from the heavens. Statues of gargoyles glared aimlessly over the building, haunting the entire rooftop. The faint sound of the Opera Populaire filled the almost desolate city. Christine sat not far to Erik's left, amused at his winsome expression. He was daydreaming of what had happened the night before.

"_Salt and passion…gasps and cries, cattish nails raking from his shoulder blades down to his ass. The ridiculous chanting of her panted voice… 'Erik! Erik! Oh god, my Erik!' The delicious sent of her wondrous juices wafting upwards and driving him deeper. The amicable feeling of his member tapping a love code against her cervix."_

Suddenly the world snapped back into focus as a baby's wail filtered through the air. Erik turned and smiled at Christine as she cuddled their two-month-old daughter closer to the warm embrace of her heavily cloaked form. The black haired angel relaxed instantly, burrowing further within her blankets and Mummy. The babe had mysterious gold-green eyes and each day they brightened with happiness more and more. As for Christine herself, Erik had never seen such a happy and healthy glow about his true love. Erik's eyes caught Christine's in an embrace and his beautiful wife smiled warmly before suddenly speaking.

"What were you thinking about dear husband?"

"Just of last night and every other night to come."

Christine blushed prettily before grasping Erik's hand and together they peacefully made their way home.

**End**

A/N: Okay, I am an awful awful dirtbag and beg for thee forgiveness. I have had ENORMACE writer's block and have been bashing my head looking for ideas. I'm sorry this took so long, please review and tell me what you think! Ravenseye131


	19. Suicide Is Painless

**Suicide Is Painless**

Rating **M (suicide obviously)**

_By Ravenseye131_

How inviting was the spectacular foam gasping from the depths of the ocean's lungs? It spiraled in tangible mists, spitting in a young woman's placid face. Her timid brown eyes were devoid of life and porcelain tears cascaded timidly down her cheeks. She stood at the precipice of life, both metaphysically and metaphorically. From this very spot the amoeba's that soon became man crawled into existence, now she stood here at the edge of her own life. The breaker's tumbled inward and danced upon her naked feet, adorning the pale flesh with watery kisses. A fashionable pale-blue dress was hitched carefully above the swirling gray pool and a dainty gloved hand released a white rose into the sheltering bosom of the ocean. A whimper escaped her cherry lips as she weakly strode forward and stumbled blindly onward. Horses hooves filled her senses and she turned, confronting in the distance the sight of a blonde haired Viscount rushing towards her.

"Christine no!"

She ignored him and trudged deeper, not even distressing as the waves began leaping above her navel. Soon she couldn't even hear his desperate calls and smiled when the salty brine began clogging her lungs. The last of the semi-blue sky finally disappeared and she welcomed the warmth of the embracing death. Silently she mouthed as the last of her life flashed about her…

'Lonely rivers flow to the sea to the sea, to the open arms of the sea wait for me…'

**End.**

A/N: Inspired by a song. Please review my faithful readers. Ravenseye131


	20. Sanctuary

**Sanctuary **

Rating: **K+**

By Ravenseye131

_A/N: Sorry it's been so long…I wrote this today while in Economics. It might be crappy, but please don't flame me…._

Bright amber orbs stared in awed curiosity at a large, semi-ethereal being leaning over above it. An equally wide palm appeared and gently swept across the being's forehead. Giggling, it squirmed under the calloused fingers inspecting its form. It laughed and reached its hands forward in the obvious sign for, 'Hold me.' The shadow smiled and consented to the babe's silent demand. Happy, it grasped the specter's broad neck and reached its other hand to spread it across the unmasked cheek. The motion brought a small chuckle to his lips before he kissed the chubby arm. Slowly, he meandered towards a grand piano. The nightingale placed the tiny creature upon his muscled thigh and braced it with one arm while his other began playing a merry tune upon the ivory keys. Suddenly, the small bundle cried out and waved its arms towards a new form. The Phantom's hand ceased playing and he turned towards the doorway.

A vision of light glowed serenely in the entryway, a sheer, pearl-colored robe clinging softly to her curves. The two opposites came together, embracing gently while the smallest form looked on. The Angel kissed the Little One lovingly and its eyelids drooped as the familiar scent of its mother encompassed it. The tenebrous visage of the Angel's mate was calmer than ever before, and he spoke quietly as the child's eyes closed.

"He's growing so swiftly…"

"Yes…Oh Erik he's so beautiful in your arms."

Erik grinned and placed a chaste kiss to his wife's lips. She spoke only minutes following his kiss.

"Do you think Quintin will remember these moments?"

"I do not know Christine. I believe they may live within him even if he shall not truly remember them."

Christine sighed peacefully as they linked arms and moved to the adjoining room where a large canopy bed occupied their chamber. In the arms of his Papa, Quintin stirred slightly and snuggled closer to his warm form. He was only four months old and was only just beginning to react to his surroundings. His eyes opened once more and their amber glow entranced both of his parents. Quintin hiccupped and brought a smile to both adults' faces.

"He is a cherub." Erik whispered.

"As much an Angel as you, my husband." Christine answered.

Erik shook his head and rolled his eyes with a small smirk on his face before standing and placing the baby back into the hand-carved crib beside his and Christine's bed. Drawing a tiny blanket to his son's chin, Erik returned to Christine's side as they crawled back into bed.

"We really must find a way to help him sleep through the night…" Erik murmured into Christine's neck.

"Mmm, I don't really mind so long as I can hear you play music and look so adorable with the baby."

He laughed softly once more before blowing out a single candle and cradling his wife in sleep. In the newfound darkness, a tiny hand clenched a blanket and smiled as his parents' whispered endearments, yes, The Angel, Her Raven and Their Cherub were finally given the peace of a home.

End 


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